


We Can Live Forever

by Ravencries (dantereznor)



Series: We can live forever, if you have the time [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Brief mention of attempting Suicide, M/M, Mpreg, The Old Gods - Freeform, Winter Elves, new lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantereznor/pseuds/Ravencries
Summary: What if living forever was a curse, a thing most foul and left those both blessed to never know it's pain and those suffering its dreaded march only know that Time moves everyone forward.





	1. i. Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bearslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/gifts).



Long were the years, the days passing as if mere seconds of sand in an hour glass, spilling down in a vast bottomless pit of darkness and painful existence. The gods though it a gift to give their favorite children eternal lives that could not be snuffed away by illness or age but rather only by the most violent of deeds or feeling the loss that was so great that their very hearts stopped so the pain need not linger there and make wraith from blessed eternity. For the long aged king of the woodland realms of elvish kin, Thranduil knew that his heart should have stopped beating, that living as he had in loosing his son’s love and in losing that love of which he called his very own that there was little chance that he’d ever again know happiness. And so he too found that he would have crafted a vessel that in theory would carry him to beyond the horizon and into the undying lands, but the ship was to small; to narrow and only would house enough that he might make it part way and find at last peace in the calmness of passing.

The morning that Thranduil gazed last upon the world of Middle Earth was done in almost a fond way, though this place brought much of his heartache and sadness, Thranduil knew that he would indeed miss this world and its beings that left him amused at times. ‘ _Yes_ ’ he thought to himself, ‘ _Yes this world would be missed just a little less than that of missing pieces...’_

Boarding his ship he would set away from the shores and place where so much was buried, left unsaid or undone in all his years. Perhaps if the gods favored him or rather were annoyed at his lack of care in this journeys supplies they would force his vessel to land on the shores before his lost child and that dwarfish husband he took and be made to answer for this deed. Answers he did not have, as the desire to fade and diminish from the world was all he could feel now, not unlike Galadriel in her desire to sail west.

 

* * *

The coolness of the day had left a bit of hardness in the air as Eddard Stark newest Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North gazed out over the vast emptiness of his home; he was being forced to leave, by order of the king to be placed into the trust and care of Jon Arryn to be taught how to govern and rule over a people until such time as he would no longer be seen as a threat to the kings interest. Lord Mormont and his sons would placed as temporary guardians of the North with his young sister Lyanna and brother Benjen until Eddard’s return. Bleakness seemed to bathe his home as if it mourned his father and brothers passing, governing this day to remind him that even the oldest of houses could be brought to its knees still by the whim of dragons.

Ahead his friend and now brother in exile Robert Baratheon spoke loudly and almost excitedly about this grand new adventure they would have. Asking about the Vale Cats and what other creatures roamed Jon’s lands, what was it like being wed to Lysa Tully and when would he see to the agreed alliance that would have her elder sister Lady Catelyn now to marry Ned to keep River Run from seeking southern alliances and thus isolating the North.

Eddard dearly wanting to tell his friend to kindly shut up and see that he not mention Catelyn or marriage to him in the same sentence again, though a kind woman she was and fair of face even, he held little desire to marry a goodly woman who followed the new faiths and abandoned their gods of old. Southern thinking was something he detested, because it was Southern thinking that led his family into believing their mad king would hear reason. Southern Lords who with his father were burned on grounds of treason and sedition, under invitation of the Targaryen King. All he wanted was this day to end and it to have just been a nightmare that plagued him that was caused by bits of bad meat or wine turning his stomach foul.

 

* * *

As days passed and uneventful things happened with the constant chatter of Robert’s voice the party reach the Neck, riding along side the neck at a slower pace; scouts in the party who had gone ahead to search for fair game and food to hunt for the lords and their men seemed to have huddled nearer to the shore than expected. Jon Arryn riding out ahead to find out what seemed to have their attention so fixated, that when he did not return Eddard too rode out to see just what it was they watched to intently.  
Gathering around what was splinters of a vessel unlike any the men had seen before they spoke in hushed tones, just feet from them lay that of a body, the silvery white hair seemed to scream Targaryen to all who beheld it and thus none dared approach.

Eddard watched and listened as the men spoke, wondering if the should bury this body and speak nothing of it or if they should recover it and send it south and face the potential label of being called traitors and murderers. Neither option sounded to ideal, and so instead of sitting there and listening to Jon and his men discuss their options; Eddard dismounted and walked forward across the mixed sand and stone shores. Approaching the body and kneeling down to examine it further, having to turn the prone form and yanking his hand back as if burned as he saw the faint blue tinge to the skin. It looked as if frost touched this body, parts of his.. perhaps her skin seemed to glow in the sunlight like fresh snow while the edged all held a faint blueness that reminded Eddard of a frozen spring that was dark in its center but pale near the edges until it reach snow blanketed shores.

He was so enthralled looking over this person that he nearly missed the weak inhale of breath, looking back to where Jon sat then back to the body he reached out again and pressed a hand over the chest, finding that slow faint thumping of a heart.  
“They live, send for a healer!” He did not dare look away as he yelled out to the men just feet from him, their voices stopping as if only now realizing that Lord Stark was there kneeling over the body they thought to be a dragon.

Looking back this time he would steel his gaze for a moment, “Send for a healer now Lord Arryn, they breath still and will not be buried here.”


	2. ii. Epiphany

The hiss of green wood as it crackled on the hearth blended well to the low hums of a mans voice, there lingered a smell of leather, sweat, furs and a deep smokey scent that did not come from the crackling blaze in the hearth and another thing that Thranduil could not readily place. His brows furrowed as he tried to puzzle out what it was, eyes cracking partially as he blearily looked around, the fuzzy shapes morphing in the dim room into actual shapes. He was in a stone room, covered in a thick pile of furs that weighed heavily upon his body and made him feel feverish. Groaning as his limbs struggled to remove the dense weight his pushed still, needing air desperately now.  
  
  
Whoever it was that had been humming stopped when Thranduil had given his groan, moving now to help him with adjusting the furs.  
  
  
“There now, rest.. you’ve a high fever that has refused to break since we found you washed up on the shores.”  
  
  
That deep voice had his attention, head turning to look up to the shadowed face, struggling more to get from under the furs. “I… fire...” It wasn’t very articulate, not like the usually well spoken king he had been once upon a time in the Green Woods.  
  
  
“Aye a fire is lit,” a pause came before a rough hand pressed to his face, pulling away when he had swatted it away once freeing an arm. Who ever this man hovering above him, he definitely failed to recognize that he felt as if he _was_ made of fire.  
  
  
The vain protests soon gave away as Thranduil once again slumped back into an unconscious state, limp as a bone fish and not strength left to fight against what was likely death helping him seek its solace.

 

* * *

  
  
Eddard again pressed his hand to the pale flesh of Thranduil’s face, and grew more concerned; the blue edges of his skin were growing whiter as time passed, and now perhaps he wondered if this blueness was not a sign of nearing death but of life in his body still. The struggling to get from beneath the layers and mentioning fire, a frown would grow as he looked over this whole situation.  
  
  
It might be a rash decision to make, but Eddard knew he could face the consequences of his actions later when the healer yelled at him for being so foolish in his actions. Ripping the furs away from the sweat dampened body, he would haul it up into his arms, carrying the man like a babe out of the warm rooms. He moved quickly out of the rooms of the inn; there had been some light snow fall during the night and now as day broke it was just dampened and cold out in the yard surrounding the main building.  
  
  
Ned was testing a theory, taking this ill fae like person into the chilled air was reckless, yet even as he moved further out to the tree line and out of the rays of the sun he could see clearly that life was no longer draining away.  
  
  
It was quite out there in the early hours of the day, a low mist swirled around Eddard’s legs as he walked further into the cool darkness, the body in his arms did not feel heavy like that of his sisters when he carried her up from the stables but almost like a sack of feathers; no weight to be found even in the strange robes and crafted boots. It amused him that even in the fever weakened state none had been able to remove his garments.  
  
  
Finding a stone to settle down upon he would begin to inspect his strange charge, brushing back that Targaryen colored silver white hair from his face he noticed now the fine delicate point of his ear. How it tapered up and looked natural to his birth and not some alteration made, a strange feature he had never seen before in any man or woman. The skin which had cooled in the air around them no longer felt clammy with sickness, still damp from the sweat that lingered but beneath the softness there was a detectable warmth. At first he feared it was still from the fever, but as the minutes ticked away and the blue edges and lines grew steadily darker he found that warmth never grew hotter or colder.  
  
  
Ned felt now that he held the embodiment of winter in his very arms, a thought that until now had been missed. This creature whatever it may be did not dwell in the heat and warmth of southern walls, it needed this cold air that only the North provided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> As always kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.


	3. iii. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in writing, I wasn't feeling very well for a few weeks.  
> Finally started to feel a bit more human, so I managed to work on the new chapter, thankfully I know where I am heading with this fuck thus far. (I think.. my illness made me forget some details.)  
> Thank you for sticking with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Fever had racked his body for what felt like a century of time, but that century had passed it seemed as his eyes slowly to open and stare out into the surprisingly bright light of day. Thranduil found that he was nestled in the arms of someone, not unlike how his father once carried him across Middle Earth on the back of his stag, bundled in furs and between arms of steel that made him feel safe and recall those happier moments of youth. Closing his eyes he would accept this strange afterlife that he was now within.

 

He was so far away from the sea and the misty deep green wood of his youth, the smells and sounds of this new world delighted him, even as he was aware that the same smokey scent from the room lingered now with him as he felt a beast moving beneath him.

 

Thranduil did not know where it was he was going, but the cooler air felt like a blessing against the tip of his ear that was exposed. There was a faint caress of warm breath against his cheek and it caused a small smile to form, such a familiar caress of another breath against his skin pulled at the long dormant strings of his battered and pierced heart. The slow thumping of the chest he rested against seemed to match time with his own, or was it that it answered the throbbing of his own; he did not readily know that answer as his head still swam in half dreams and fevers.

 

* * *

 

 

The dawn two days past had not been a pleasant one for Eddard Stark, the arguments and stubbornness of Lord’s serving a king they held no respect or loyalty towards leave his head aching. He was now Warden of the North, protectorate of it’s people and all those who dwell within its borders, that meant taking this fae like creature South was not going to happen.

 

Targaryen or not, until it woke this winter-y person he held so closely would not leave the North and neither would he trust it’s care in any house but his own.

 

Robert had argued that the pretty lass, or was it lad, would not live out the ride back to Winterfell; that ignoring the command of Aerys Targaryen would be a mistake he’d not soon forget if he and his house wanted to stay alive for much longer than the month they’d have it took the armies to march north. While his argument was sound, it still fell upon deaf ears. Eddard had no intention of abandoning the North now when they needed a strong ruler to keep watch over their interests.

 

Should war come and fill the air with fire and smoke, then it would end in fire with Eddard leading his people in the war that would lead the North back to it’s freedom against the dying dragons and their madness. But he prayed silently that the gods, his gods, would keep his lands and people safe from a war that his defiance would undoubtedly bring.

 

* * *

 

 

Again he found himself waking to the sounds of a crackling fire, only this time the flames were not so stifling that he felt every breath choking him. Pushing the furs away from his body and sitting up he could feel the chill of the air, the dampness of his skin finally giving him a clear indicator that the fever that clung so desperately to his weary limbs was finally retreating, and it was a relief to Thranduil to feel the old aches and pains that had long been with him since before the birth of Legolas.

 

Staring now into the fire’s dancing glow he journeyed into his mind, letting memories of the past flood into the foreground of his consciousness. His voyage had not been as successful as he had hoped. This was not some strange afterlife, or even the lands in which he was born, rather this earth was rich still in magic and there was nothing drawing upon it’s energy to make it bloom and grow as it could.

 

“I see you’ve finally woken… you had me worried I defied my kings command for someone who would die before we reached journeys end.”

 

Blinking slowly Thranduil would look past the flames now to the boyish face of the man he recalled in his dreams. His voice held hints of the man he was becoming while everything else held the charm of mortal youth.

 

“Have you a name, or can you even speak the common tongue? I’m afraid my Valyrian is rusty.”

 

Smiling at him, while understand what he spoke, Thranduil did not think it wise to give council just yet to this man boy who had saved him yet. Not till he knew more of where he was and just what this youth wanted with him.

 

Eddard of course could only groan a bit, that maddening smile now seemed to drive his heart into racing faster as he was met with silence.

 

“I am Eddard Stark, we’re traveling to my fathers… to my home in the North. You will be safe there, and should recover your strength after a time there. Though I think you are beginning to show signs of better health now.”

 

The smile remained even as Thranduil moved to lay himself back down among the furs, amused as this man-child rambled to explain when it was he had missed and that he now looked better when he knew inside that he was indeed beginning to feel like himself once more. Like an elf he had not known for a long age. He could hear the displeased sigh from Eddard Stark, even as his eyes closed to the firelight and the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> As always kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.


	4. iv. Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the long delay in chapter four, and for the shortness.   
> I had hoped to beat the first episode of the season, but alas she got to me first -- so here is the short installment of We Can Live Forever.

Though the strange fevers that had clung in the southern regions had long since let go, and vivid deep blue returned to the edges of Thranduil’s skin – which fascinated him a bit when spying his reflection in pools of water – the elvish king deemed it rather unnecessary to ride alone when the suggestion was made by this lord who took very attentive note of his person.

 

It had been a week of being more awake than sleeping that brought Eddard to the conclusion that he might like to ride alone.

 

That maddening smile Thranduil had worn for so long now seemed to both frustrate and endear him to this mortal man who called him stubborn more than once. Implying once that he knew pigs who were more cooperative than Thranduil was capable of being; that little jab might have worked on Legolas, but he had centuries of experience with Dwarves and men that his son lacked that told the aged king that this was a goading to get him to speak.

 

Even now as he sat firmly behind Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, Thranduil could feel the mans annoyance as his refusal to show signs of understanding or speech beyond his smile. This was a fun game indeed to be playing, if he continued though it would likely find him left in the care of someone who was not the man-boy that had saved him from the fate of the gods and death. But for now the risk was well worth the game for the aged king, his arm tightening around Eddard’s middle now.

 

Soon though they would come to a stopping point near the midday mark, Eddard waiting for his dismount before joining him down on the ground. Looking around in a curious manner, he knew they were coming upon a keep, he had spied it some miles back as they topped a higher hill.

 

“We’ll be to Winterfell before night falls, I would rest the horses a bit before we finish our journey… the keep has been the seat of my family since we came down from the North, the northern kings all sat there.” Ned was trying to explain to his maddening rescue, petting the neck of his stallion, not even sure as to why he bothered talking. His only answer was ever that damned smile.

 

Releasing reigns he would step away to the mare who was carrying the supplies he had taken with him on this return to his home. Taking her burned down with care, and letting her be free to graze and stand idly by for the time he would make a small camp. He was not hungry, but he still found himself looking for the meager remaining supply of food and water he had been feeding them with. Glancing up to his mute companion as he unwrapped an oil cloth of dried fish.

 

“Here, come eat.. it’s nearly past midday and evening supper will many hours from now.” He held out the fish as an offering while lowering himself down into the grass and weeds.

 

Turning to Eddard, regarding his offerings of delicate fish meats and knowing he also held onto the skins of water, he would bow his head forward and move closer to the mortal man. Easing himself into the foliage, reaching out to take one of the small morsels from Stark, regarding him in silence as he took it to his lap. He found eating here to be far less filling, but more pleasant given the company he now kept, picking bits of flesh from bones as he turned his head and listened to the distant voices of what he assumed was the keep known as Winterfell.

 

His ears twitching briefly, something he never recalled them doing in the past, it was not bothersome only curious how his body had changed in coming to this new land. Not even daring to question how he knew the tongue, assuming perhaps the enriched magic of these lands and gods had blessed him to know this world as easily as his own. Turning his gaze back to Eddard, Thranduil regarded the man-boy who already was beginning to show signs of being so much older now the closer to his home they got; it had been mentioned the morning of their departure and return North that he was now the ruler of these lands. It was starting to show, the faint lines etching away the more his mind worried on troubles far bigger than his disobeying a command to go South.  
  
A heavy thunder of hooves were soon detected in the air around them, causing Thranduil to rise up and look for the source, Eddard too rising with a concerned frown.

 

“What is.. riders.” Eddard was distracted from hearing the sound of horses with their distance thunderous hooves.

 

He raced up from their place in the grass to the hills top, standing there against the breeze and the sky and he looked forward toward the distant keep. Thranduil was soon up there with him, looking out to the riders and recognizing they seemed to come from the grand stone structure, riding fervently to where they rested. Soon though their cloud of dirt and heavily breathing mounts had both surrounded there on the hilltop over looking the flat half mile to the keep. Many riders eyeing Thranduil with caution as they waited for some kind of signal, their horses pawing at the dirt and grasses and moving unsteadily as if they two did not trust the fae in the company of their lord.

 

“Lord Stark, what brings your return to the North so suddenly and with a Targaryen?”

 

The voice was higher, a woman’s lilt and yet the faces surrounding them did not give answers to Thranduil as to who spoke, head turning to study each set of eyes that peered from helms. He found himself reaching for Eddard’s wrist in some form of comfort that they were indeed safe there.  
  
“What brings Lyanna Stark riding out with a group of soldiers when she should be minding our little brother?” Eddard sounded almost jovial, pulling forward from his companion. “Am I not Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North?”  
  
“You’re a head waiting to be spiked...”  
  
“Aye, but I bring a guest and dare that the Mad Dragon King tempt the gods in coming this far from his rusty throne and ill-bred brood.”  
  
The exchange quieted and soon a solider slipped from their saddled and all but tackled Eddard, their helm pulled off as dark hair tumbled out in a mess of curls and braids. The embrace was almost intimate, but it was one expected between brother and much loved sister.

 

“Winterfell welcomes her Lord once more, come, you’re desperately needed to bring sanity back to our walls as your foul gingered intended has invaded our home and brought with her new gods and idiotic notions of taming Benjen or I.”

 

As Lyanna spoke and pulled her brother along as if intending to walk back to the keep, Thranduil stood still watching them, hearing of an intended for the man he had ridden with. It was only when Eddard paused and turned back to look him in the eyes did he realize that he had not moved from his spot on the hill.

 

“Are you coming now?”

 

It was an earnest question, Eddard’s eyes almost pleading with him as he held out a hand in a gesture of welcoming him to this journey homeward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am terribly sorry about the delay, I promise that I am working on chapter five already.  
> In fact I started writing it before I came here to post chapter four.
> 
>  
> 
> Part of the reason for this long delay is that earlier this year I lost two members of my family unexpectedly, and then had my home invaded by my brother's step sons, which puts me in the babysitter position more times than I care to think about.  
> It's no excuse, more so that I managed to write two short prompts and a mini-get out of my head fic recently, but I am trying to get back into pacing myself and writing more on this fic and another that I am hoping to update before the month is over. Sadly that one has less motivation as all the files are on my now dead desktop. :(


	5. v. Godswood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!  
> Bet you all thought it was going to be a long summer's wait for the next chapter!!
> 
> Thank you all to my readers and those who have left Kudos, comments and are even following this fic.  
> Without you guys I wouldn't have anyone to write for, because the voices in my head hate reading. They are more of a karaoke crowd.

The unexpected return of Eddard Stark was met with joy and concern given that he now was disobeying the command of the king, already a number of servants sent with the commands to prepare new chambers for his guest as well as to make ready for any banner men coming to find out what exactly was being plotted by the young lord. Thranduil had been jostled away from the Stark family, a woman leading him off into the keep, a moments glance back was he had left as he looked to Eddard’s face before being taken up into the stone walls. Rushed words coming from the smaller woman as he was lead through the passages and up higher still, other servants and men in armor passing them.

 

Everything was now like a sudden hive of bees coming to life and he was soon quickly placed into a chamber, practically abandoned as something about a bath and fresh garments would be found. Turning around to look as the heavy door closed and he was left alone to listen in on the hum of the keep, looking around at the walls of the room; an empty hearth taking up a space of wall with a bed on the opposite side. This was not the open and intricate rooms that elves might dwell within but rather something akin to a Dwarf Lord’s chambers, dark stone the smell of ash from past fires.

 

Moving over the floors he would open the window shutters, having to work out the locked bar first, opening it so he might look out to the keep below. A central yard where men worked and trained, a commotion really as if a war was suddenly on their doorstep.

 

* * *

 

 

“My _Lord…_ I know you deemed it necessary to bring the person here, but you’ve orders from the king. Or--”  
  
“ _Jeor please…_ Please I know that ignoring these orders is foolish.” Eddard had to raise a hand to keep the Old Bear from chewing his ears off for longer than he cared for, a deep sigh rolling off of him as he sat with the man.

 

Jeor Mormont was not pleased or impressed with Eddard’s desire to drop the subject, he was meant to watch over the house while his sister and son minded the island in his absence. Giving a displeased grunt as he waved away a serving girl bringing forward a pitcher of ale.

 

“Eddard, I was placed here to watch over your house, your sister and brother. You are to travel south to the Vale, your are not ready to take command of the North in a role that was left vacant with the untimely demise of your father.”  
  
“My father and brother were murdered by the mad king, Jon Arryn bartered with him to take myself and Robert Baratheon into the Vale to have us taught Southern politics and ways of thinking so we were somewhere far from our homes and unable to retaliate against the acts in which he condoned.” A pause came, and with it a silent challenge to Lord Jeor Mormont to tell him what he thought of where Eddard should be; as no answer came he would stand slowly and move from the table. His back facing the Lord as Eddard stared up to the tapestry of his houses sigil.

 

“My sisters intended is unaware of what transgressions took place, she had begged me not to tell Robert of her love for the Prince or that they had run away together to marry in the Gods Wood. A married man set to take the only begotten daughter of Lord Rickard Stark as a whore wife… I will not bend at the knee to Aerys Targaryen, my father served him. _He_ _ **and**_ _my brother_ traveled south to make peace with him following the indiscretion of Rhaegar and they were burned alive in the throne room. Now leave me to peace so I might have a moment before I am to face my sister and her complaints about Catelyn Tully’s insistence on invading Winterfell before our marriage.”

 

Jeor regarded Eddard as he stood there, he didn’t sound like a boy who just weeks before was leaving the North for the Vale, looking sick at the very idea of abandoning his house because the king agreed to the suggestions of his Hand. No this was the beginnings of a man who would do many things, and he hoped they would be great things. Giving a sigh and nod he would stand, turning for a moment before looking back to Eddard.  
  
“And what of the Targaryen hostage you’ve brought with you?”  
  
Eddard frowned and continued to stare at the wolf before him, a hand tightening into a fist as he had no answer to give. When he saved the strange winter touched fae, many people assumed they were a Dragon, but now as Jeor mentioned they were now possibly a hostage to the North. He worried what the retaliation might be, Rhaegar still coveted his sister’s hand after all and had proved she would go with him once.

 

* * *

 

The rush of a breeze through the leaves surrounded Catelyn as she moved through the walled off forest, a sacred grove that she was to be married to Eddard in the coming months rather than years time she had thought would pass. She was seeking out the white heart tree, wanting to see if she’d feel some call from her intendeds gods there – Gods she did not believe in given their place of worship was simply a tree. These woods felt empty and quiet to her, not something that was holy or sacred like all the Northerner’s seemed to feel. Just tress and rock and water, a place that was pretty to look at but also looked like so many other places she had seen on the journey from the Riverlands to the North.

 

Coming soon upon the pool and the sacred white tree with his leaves as red as blood she would find a place and which she could sit, staring up to the carved face as she tried to listen for anything that told her the gods were ready to bless her or at least tell her they were there.

High above where Catelyn sat listening for some sign a pair of eyes watched, focused on the red haired woman that they had not seen yet, though all men were new to the eyes of Thranduil. He was curious about her, wondering now as he watched if she was there because she to could hear the low lament that seemed to hum within this very tree. Her silence gave him hope that perhaps he was not alone in hearing the voices of those unseen, and yet when she stood so abruptly before he could even begin to climb down he knew then that she was unable to hear the calling that had drawn him from the stone keep into the woods.

 

Her irritated huff came as she gave a shake of her head. “Old Gods of the Forest… more like old trees and stories told to children.” She would turn from the tree and start back for the keep, pausing though when it felt as though she were now being watched. Hand tightening on a the fabric of her cloak as she turned back to look to the tree.

 

Again the only sounds was that of the wind in the leaves, and yet a soft song was heard a faintness almost like that of bells whispering on the wind.

 

_“Av awartha Eru! Estel, egleria, aphada-Eru...”_

 

Catelyn’s eyes nearly doubled as she stared hard at the tree she had sought out, the feeling that eyes still bore into her flesh and possibly even that of her soul had her fearful that mocking the Old Gods might just doom her to an unhappy life. Turning quickly she would run from the tree and it’s sacred pool, determined not to reenter the woods until someone knew something about what might have been spoken to her. If she could just remember the words that seemed to haunt her steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Av awartha Eru! Estel, egleria, aphada-Eru...” -- "Don't abandon God. Trust, praise, follow God"
> 
>  
> 
> Also many many thanks to my reader/follower/commentator/giver of kudos Alexandra_Savile; your beautiful review of chapter 4 really motivated me to getting chapter 5 written. (I actually forgot to save what I originally wrote and rewrote all of this in a few hours. *laughs nervously* )  
> So this chapter is for you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> As always kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
